


The Green Line

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [65]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Avengers Movie Night, Background Hair Braiding, Bad Puns, Banter, Bechdel Test Pass, Bribery, Chatting & Messaging, Drug Use, F/M, Gambling, Gen, HuffPo, If my tags don't convince you I don't know what will, Kidnapping, M/M, Marvel Universe Big Bang 2018, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Pancakes, Regret, Rescue Missions, Sex With Bad Guys For A Good Cause, Social Networking, Stress Baking, Supervillains, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Vatican Bashing, Video & Computer Games, harlem shake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 03:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16421114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: Five times Tony made nice with supervillains, and one time they got him back.(Knowledge of Marvel comics or DC may enhance enjoyment of this story, but is not necessary)





	The Green Line

**Author's Note:**

> Art masterpost by the wonderful and talented [Lets_call_me_Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/pseuds/Lets_call_me_Lily) is to be found [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414748)

1.

It was a typical movie night at Avengers Tower.

Clint and Natasha were seated just a bit too close on the wide leather sofa, watching Natasha’s choice, _Crank_ , with a solemnity completely unsuited for the occasion. Thor took up the entire other half of the sofa, and was red-faced from stifling laughter, after the assassins had turned their stony, disapproving gazes on him. Bruce reclined in an armchair to the side and avoided the issue by poking at a tablet. Steve was perched on the edge of a two-seater, watching earnestly. Tony nominally sat beside him, but actually spent most of the movie walking back and forth to the kitchen, looking over Bruce’s shoulder and critiquing his calculations, getting more drinks, and generally making a nuisance of himself.

Thus, there were mixed reactions when the movie paused at a dramatic moment and Jarvis announced that Tony was receiving an important call. “It’s on the Green Line, sir.”

Clint, Natasha, and Thor cried out for the continuation of the film; Steve shrugged good-naturedly; and Bruce whispered a prayer of gratitude.

“Everyone quiet,” Tony said, crossing the room and placing his hand flat against a cabinet on the entertainment center. After a quiet buzz, the wooden panel slid open, revealing a small compartment with a set-up not unlike that in a phone booth. Unusually, the handset and its mount were bright green.

“A land-line?” Clint said judgmentally. “Bit low-tech for-”

Tony made a violent gesture over his throat and Clint rolled his eyes, exchanging a loaded glance with Natasha, who had been scowling ever since the movie paused.

“Great to hear from you, it’s been too long,” Tony said into the receiver. His team watched, variously interested and concerned, as the genius who had been raving about the shortcomings of CGI moments before spoke congenially into a phone that looked decades out of date.

“No, I’m definitely free tonight.” Holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, Tony began making unmistakeable ‘clean up and get out’ gestures. Clint communicated back with violent flails of ‘but the movie’ and ‘look at all the food everywhere, I’m not cleaning that up.’ Natasha took a few steps in Tony’s direction and directed to him a glare that said eloquently ‘if you interrupt my movie I will take revenge, and it will be painful.’

“You’re- downstairs?” Tony’s eyes bugged open and darted about the common space; the Avengers as a whole were rather messy. “No, it’s absolutely not a problem. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He gently placed the phone back on the cradle, then whirled around in a frenzy.

“Widow, Hawkeye, get all the take-out into the fridge. Thor, you pick up all the trash, get it out of sight. Cap, you’re on glasses and bottles. Bruce-” Tony froze. “Actually just go to your room. Right now.”

Whether they finally understood the gravity of the situation, or had merely decided to humor Tony in his distress, the Avengers took their abnormal orders and within a minute, the living room was neat and tidy. Tony, fixing his hair in a small mirror on the bar, looked up at them all, spat out the strip of gum he’d hastily started chewing, and pointed to the elevators. “Great, now everybody out.”

“What is this about?” Steve asked. He squinted, unsure if this situation called for Captain America, or Pepper Potts.

“Diplomacy,” Tony replied, sounding remarkably sober. “Seriously guys, get out.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Jarvis cautioned.

The Avengers finally were convinced to retreat by the crazed look in Tony’s eyes.

 

~~~~~

 

The next morning, the team- minus Tony- congregated in the kitchen on the common floor. Clint started his signature fry-up, Thor utilized the commercial toaster to prepare a whole box of Pop-Tarts simultaneously, Steve crunched into an apple, and Natasha and Bruce stared each other down over the strawberry Greek yogurt. A normal morning, except for the suspicious absence of a certain genius trying to annoy the coffee-maker into producing its elixir faster.

“Anyone have any ideas?” Steve broke the silence, realizing that the tension in the room would not be broken until someone asked the question on all their minds (and also that Bruce and Natasha should be distracted from their silent battle before someone got hurt).

“Our Man of Iron is proficient at many skills, but I would not have predicted diplomacy to be one of them,” Thor said in between stuffing two halves of a Pop-Tart into his mouth.

“He’s actually known for it, in certain circles,” Natasha interjected. Bruce brooded at her as she dipped her spoon into the yogurt. “International politics, business and finance. Not that you could tell most of the time,” she continued.

Clint expertly flipped a pancake. “Negotiations don’t usually take place at 11pm on a Saturday with five minutes notice,” the archer pointed out.

“You think he was lying?” Steve asks.

Clint shrugged. “Or it’s an unusual circumstance. Whatever. Above my paygrade.”

Steve looked at Natasha instead, and the tilt to her head said that she was just as interested as he was. Thor looked contemplative as he dipped his fourth Pop-Tart in a glass of milk, and Bruce… Steve motioned for Natasha to share the yogurt, which she did, grudgingly.

The click of a door opening down the hall caused a collective startle among the group, who quickly met each other’s eyes. The only people with access to the common floor, besides those who were already present, were Tony and Pepper, the latter of whom was known to be in California. And the only room in that direction was the guest suite, which they should have been informed was in use. From the team’s expressions, no one knew of any reason it would be occupied. In silent agreement, the Avengers feigned a casual atmosphere, with Natasha and Thor, who had the best sight-lines, squaring themselves to the doorway.

A strikingly beautiful blonde, perfectly coiffed in skintight white leather, stepped regally into the kitchen. Steve quickly reddened, eyes locked on her exposed midriff, and when Clint glanced back he choked and nearly dropped the pancake pan. The woman smiled, seemingly amused, and put her hands on her hips, causing the cape artfully draped from her upper arms to flare.

“I assure you, Hawkeye, they’re quite real,” she said, her voice clear and sarcastic.

Clint’s mouth closed with a snap, but he recovered quickly. “Pancakes, ma’am? Since you don’t need to watch your figure,” he snarked.

“To go, thank you,” the woman said, and stepped up to the kitchen island. Steve’s body seemed to move without his direction, leaping forward to pull out a stool for her. The woman smiled mysteriously at him before sitting on it, her body sinuously seeming to shape the light in the room around her. Steve swallowed his suddenly dry mouth, struggling with the previously unexperienced contradictory urges to draw the woman, and to go take a cold shower. However, he steadfastly kept his eyes on her face, rather than her… the rest of her.

The woman’s lips quirked at him. “Captain America, darling, you really are everything people say you are.”

Steve blinked, unsure from her tone whether that was a compliment. “Thank you?”

She smiled again, before turning away. Steve breathed out silently in relief.

“Agent Romanoff. We’ve missed you around the poker table,” the woman said. Again, her voice seemed multi-layered, hinting at meanings Steve couldn’t interpret.

Natasha’s expression was just as complex. “Haven’t been able to replace me?” she said.

The woman’s lips quirked. “Never, Widow. If you ever tire of this dreadful hero business, do give me a call.”

“I guess I know where to find your number.” Natasha’s lips pursed slightly, and the woman laughed.

“I thought you do-gooders shared everything.” Natasha didn’t reply, and the woman shifted her focus. “Tony didn’t tell me you joined the Avengers, Doctor Banner. It must have been quite the coup for Nicholas Fury, securing you for the team.”

Bruce turned to face the woman, and Steve felt his spine straighten when he recognized Bruce’s angry look. “I can feel you trying to get in my head,” Bruce said, deliberately calm. “It’s not going to work.”

The woman smiled again, wider than before. “That’s fine. I don’t discriminate among my friends. You’re just as welcome as the Widow to call me once the gloss of being a superhero fades. The Hellfire Club would value your intellect just as much as your other persona, if not more.”

Natasha nudged the yogurt closer to Bruce, breaking the sustained eye contact that had Thor twisting his grip on Mjolnir. Clint slid a plastic plate with pancakes, eggs, and bacon across the island to the woman, who picked it up and stood gracefully.

“Prince Thor.” She inclined her head, which Thor accepted with a nod. “I’m on my way out, but I hope we can have a proper introduction at the defense summit next month. Tony will take care of that, won’t you, sugar?” She looked back at the doorway she’d come through, just as Tony came into view.

Steve had to double-take: Tony’s clothes looked hastily shoved-on and were a dishevelled mess; his hair was everywhere, there were bruises visible on his neck and chest, and his eyes didn’t seem to focus when he looked around the room. “Of course, Emma,” Tony said, nodding one too many times.

“Until next time, Avengers,” the woman smirked at the silent room, then spun and strode toward the elevators. Steve watched the way the light seemed to dim when she left.

Once the elevators shut, Steve went to question Natasha, but the spy shook her head warningly, and Tony practically fell onto the stool the mysterious guest had just vacated. “Feed me carbs,” he demanded, laying his head on his arms. Clint had a plate in front of him in under a minute, and Tony began stuffing food into his mouth nearly as fast as Thor.

Tony had finished his plate by the time Jarvis spoke up. “Ms. Frost is currently one thousand feet from the Tower, Agent Romanoff.” Tony looked up just in time to get hit in the face with the full force of Natasha’s displeasure.

Tony swallowed his last bite, wincing, and averted his gaze. Clint sniggered.

“Why did you invite Emma Frost into the Tower without telling us?” Natasha demanded, tone hard as obsidian.

“In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t get that much warning,” Tony defended, now making sad eyes between Clint and the plate of bacon beside the stove. “If I’d warned you guys you’d just be thinking about all the stuff you didn’t want her to know.”

“Who was the lady in white?” Thor asked, and Bruce followed up, “And why was she here?”

“Emma Frost, aka the White Queen,” Clint said as he fixed Tony up a new plate. “She’s one of the most powerful telepaths on Earth, and she’s currently one of the leaders of the Hellfire Club, which goes back and forth between being a filthy rich peoples’ social club and a straight up terrorist cult, depending on who’s in charge that year.”

“She also makes a mean martini,” Tony tried to joke. Bruce looked up from the yogurt, and his glare coupled with Natasha’s made Tony wilt completely. “I told you, diplomacy.”

“I wasn’t aware Stark Industries negotiated with terrorist nowadays,” Steve said disapprovingly.

“Stark Industries has nothing to do with terrorists,” Tony said firmly. “Iron Man, on the other hand, is casual acquaintances with a few.”

“You want to explain that?” Bruce prompted.

Tony forced two strips of bacon down his throat. “It’s like the red telephone,” he managed to choke out. “Between Moscow and Washington? Two big superpowers connected by a common phone line. Well, I’ve got a green telephone.”

“There was never a red telephone,” Natasha corrected.

“Red teletype, whatever,” Tony hand-waved. “I’m on good terms with a few key members of the supervillain community. Not drinking buddies with any of them, but maybe golf buddies, you know,” he directed to Bruce.

“I never played golf,” Bruce told him.

“Really?” Tony said. “It’s all physics and technique and underhanded sniping, I thought it’d be right up your alley.”

“I got frustrated and broke a few clubs.”

“Ah.”

“You’re communicating with supervillains on behalf of the Avengers?” Steve demanded.

“You’re sleeping with supervillains on behalf of the Avengers,” Clint clarified with a grin.

“Answering in order, no, I’m not communicating with supervillains on behalf of the Avengers, I’ve was doing this years before the Avengers were founded. I don’t speak for the team, I speak for Iron Man, who, for the record,” Tony swiveled to give Steve a superior look, “carries a lot of weight in the super-powered community even without associating with you second-tier superheroes-” which sparked annoyed protests from the SHIELD agents, a roar from Thor, harsh language from Steve, and made Bruce curl up over the nearly-depleted yogurt.

After a few minutes of calm, rational, synergistic debate, things settled down. “Without associating with my eminently admirable and particularly forgiving teammates,” Tony finished, wiping away the last of the maple syrup and yogurt smeared down his face and neck. “And to answer your question, Barton, I was actually sleeping with Emma way before she became the White Queen, so there.” He dug into his eggs.

Steve massaged the bridge of his nose. “Is this sort of… diplomacy cleared with Shield?”

“If you mean have they signed my permission slip?” Tony mocked. “Of course not, Cap, I’m consorting with known supervillains. Plausible deniability. If you mean did Coulson do that eyeroll, too-much-trouble-to-argue huff thing he does, then yeah, we’re good. Shield has had to take advantage of my connections before. To be honest, I’d assumed you guys knew,” he directed to Natasha and Clint.

The agents exchanged a shrug. “N.M.B.,” Clint said shortly.

“Compartmentalized intel,” Natasha agreed, not looking very happy about it.

“Do us a favor?” Bruce asked. “Just… let us know when you’re going to have a guest over who’s likely to try and kill us in the future?”

Tony looked thoughtful. “I guess that’s doable. J, give the team an alert whenever I make a Green Line date.” Jarvis answered in the affirmative.

“Okay, now we’re done with that, more pancakes!” Tony offered up his plate. Clint sighed a heavy sigh, and filled it up again.

“It appears congratulations are owed,” Thor observed. “Our friend Stark must be a gifted diplomat indeed, to have so thoroughly spent himself during negotiations.”

The table groaned as one. “You’re not fooling anyone with this stupid foreigner shtick, you know,” Clint told the god.

Thor smiled. His teeth glinted.

 

 

2.

It was another Avengers’ movie night, and unfortunately for all concerned, it was Steve’s turn to choose. He’d selected _Batman & Robin _ , remembering the early comics, and insisted that since he’d sat through _Serious Moonlight_ they could put up with his choice. Halfway through the movie, however, Steve’s steadfast defense was waning as even Thor began to grumble about plot holes. Tony was whimpering quietly and Bruce had gone into the kitchen and started cooking a batch of brownies to distract himself from the unholy perversion of the laws of physics.

When the movie paused and Jarvis announced a green line alert, Clint and Natasha started applauding.

“This is not a phone call,” Jarvis informed the room, "a guest has announced his arrival at the landing platform.”

“What?” Tony leaped up and started peering out the windows.

Clint glanced over. “Two o’clock,” he said lazily.

Tony flipped him off and focused on the approaching speck. “That’s… crap.” He turned back to the team. “Okay, no one freak out, all right? This is totally normal.”

“Tony,” Steve said, hands on his hips.

“Just, everyone remain calm, and be diplomatic, remember?” Tony warned. “Don’t cause an international incident.”

Bruce poked his head in from the kitchen, heaved a sigh, and retreated.

The approaching figure came into view: over six feet tall and with a flowing green cloak, it appeared to be a medieval suit of armor dressed as Robin Hood.

“Who is this warrior?” Thor queried.

“The ruler of Latveria, and one of the most powerful supervillains living on Earth,” Natasha told him calmly, fingering one of her knives.

“And as long as we remember that underneath it all, he’s just a patriotic, well-meaning guy, it’ll be fine!” Tony said, definitely not looking at all nervous as said patriotic guy landed on the platform outside. Tony took a deep breath, plastered a smile on his face, and waved a hand, opening the sun doors.

“Victor!” he called, motioning the suit of armor inside. “Welcome to Avengers Tower! We’re glad to have you. Drink?”

The suit of armor entered, then stood with arms crossed. “I am leaving your repellant country tonight, Iron Man, and I have no wish to tarry over pleasantries.”

Steve bristled on behalf of America. The armor and the voice modulator disguised any cues Steve could have seen about the supervillain’s intentions, however, so he chose to observe rather than respond.

Tony forced a gracious smile. “Our loss. What brings you here, if you’re in such a hurry?”

The suit of armor shifted and crossed its arms. “The United Nations have seen fit to continue their attempts at destabilizing my rule,” he proclaimed. “They foolishly believe that their _sanctions_ -” the word came loaded with extra vitriol “-can bring me under their control!”

“You know I don’t like involving myself in politics,” Tony told him. “Something about being the most morally upstanding person in a room really gets me down.”

“Doom would never lower himself by grovelling to such insignificant creatures!” Victor boomed, holding his arms wide. “I have no need of your ‘diplomacy’, Iron Man!” Sections of his armor and gauntlets began to glow green in a way that reminded Steve of some of Tony’s armors.

The SHIELD agents grabbed for their weapons and Thor stood up, Mjolnir flying to his hand from across the room.

“Stand down!” Tony barked, eyes flashing. Steve nodded, getting his teammates’ attention, and gestured for them to lower their weapons. None of them looked happy to do so.

“Victor, you know I want to help you,” Tony said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “You gotta tell me what you want.”

Victor crossed his arms again, but this time, when he spoke, it was subdued. “The sanctions include the denial of certain American companies from trading consumer goods with my country. We will surely suffer greatly without… sustenance.”

“Ahhh,” Tony said, nodding solemnly. “I understand. Jarvis, order up a few cases of Victor’s ‘product’ for rush delivery. How much can you carry when you're flying?” he asked.

“Doom does not give away his secrets,” Victor hissed. It sounded very odd coming through his helmet.

“Okay, fine, then you’re getting sixty pounds.” Tony shrugged. “Think that’ll be enough?”

Victor eyed him through the mask. Finally, he sniffed. “It will do. I shall wait here until my package arrives.” He stepped up to the smaller sofa and sat himself in Bruce’s seat. Reinforced only for a few hundred pounds, the furniture groaned under the weight of his suit. Hiding his feelings behind a neutral expression, Tony sat beside him.

The Avengers looked at each other in silent discussion. Clint was signing ‘NO NO NO NO’ at an angle where Victor could only mostly see it, and Thor looked deeply suspicious. Natasha’s mouth was set mulishly, though, and she twisted in her seat, communicating eloquently to Steve that she could see nothing to do but wait it out.

Feeling nostalgic for World War II, Steve sighed quietly and settled back in his seat.

A tense and awkward silence fell over the room as the masked heroes on screen resumed their adventures. Steve tried to concentrate on the movie, but the surreality of watching heroes fight a villain who was trying to destroy the world with a freeze ray while sitting alongside a villain who regularly tried to take over the world using, among other things, a ray gun, was just too much.

No one so much as breathed loudly until their villainous guest tilted his helmet slightly to the side and commented, “This is undoubtedly the worst film I have ever beheld. The writing and execution display a truly inferior understanding of basic scientific principles!”

“That’s what I said!” Bruce shouted from the kitchen doorway. He had a dash of flour next to one ear and was wearing oven mitts with sunflowers on them.

Victor turned to see who spoke. “Bruce Banner,” he acknowledged, sounding almost friendly for the first time. “How fortunate that we should meet on this night. I have followed your work in nuclear physics with the utmost appreciation.”

“Uh, thank you,” Bruce said, looking back into the kitchen like he regretted coming out.

Victor nodded once. “There is a place for you in Latveria, should you choose to accept it,” he said. “I think you would find working under Victor von Doom most fulfilling.”

Bruce looked like Clint did when Thor caught him eating his Pop Tarts. “I’ll think about it,” he replied, his voice higher than usual.

“See that you do,” Victor commanded.

Just then, Jarvis alerted them that the delivery had arrived in the lobby.

“Oh thank God,” Steve heard Clint mutter under his breath.

A minute later, the elevator dinged. Victor strode forward with heavy footfalls and grasped a large box, standing easily. He clomped back toward the landing platform, but paused at the entryway to address Tony.

“I shall uphold my half of our bargain,” he said.

“Of course,” Tony replied, shrugging.

“It is known Doom is a man of his word,” Victor said warningly, clearly taking Tony’s doubt as a personal affront.  

“It certainly is,” Tony said in the same ambiguous tone he’d used before.

Victor huffed angrily behind his mask. “Avengers,” he said to the group, voice buzzing, “we shall meet again, and next time, you will pledge loyalty to Doom!”

With that, he took the last few strides to the edge of the roof and took off. In less than a minute, he was once again a speck on the horizon.

Bruce came fully into the living room and collapsed on a couch. “I don’t want to be popular with supervillains,” he whined quietly.

Thor patted his shoulder.

Natasha’s eyes were narrowed. “What did you give him, Tony?”

“Relax _Agent_ Romanoff.” Tony glared back at her. “It’s harmless. Doom has a soft spot for a certain American delicacy. I supply him, and in return, he’s given me a heads-up a few times when some of our mutual enemies are making moves.

“Is that alright with you guys?” he said sharply, looking around at the others. “You wanna check over my homework too? Or will you finally trust me when I say I know what I’m doing?”

There’s a loaded silence.

Clint broke it after a few moments, one hand twirling a small knife, completely relaxed amidst the tension of the room. “What food does he like so much?”

“Twizzlers,” Tony said shortly, still glaring at his teammates.

Bruce looked up from his flop on the couch. “He barters intelligence for _Twizzlers_?”

“I must try this formidable dish,” Thor mused aloud.

“Okay, Tony,” Steve announced. “You know what you’re doing. I’ll support you,” he swore.

Natasha stared at Tony a minute before nodding, and Clint groaned in general malaise before waving a hand in assent.

Thor inclined his head. “You have quite a skill in arbitration, Stark.” Bruce smiled tiredly and nodded.

Tony looked appeased.

“Alright team, we’re finishing this movie,” Steve said firmly. The resultant groans and complaints lightened the atmosphere, and by the time the movie was playing again, Tony was bugging Clint as usual, which was Steve’s intention.

It was _probably_ worth having to sit through the last forty-five minutes.

 

 

3.

Natasha was heading to the communal kitchen for a one AM snack after her midnight workout, when she heard a feminine giggle coming from the living room. Immediately, she stopped. None of her teammates or their close companions giggled like that. The only explanation was that someone (Clint? Steve?) had brought back a friend for the evening.

Natasha grinned in a way that would have scared most intelligent people. _Blackmail material_.

The woman’s voice came again, this time a cooing sound with a sigh attached, and the hair on the back of Natasha’s neck prickled. She knew that voice, and it didn’t bode well… but who was it?

“Okay, so, I think that’s probably enough.” Tony’s most awkward tone came from the living room. “You, um-” his voice broke strangely, like he’d swallowed. “You satisfied?”

“ _Oh, yes,_ ” the woman replied, and Natasha’s eyes widened when she recognized the speaker at last.

“Great!” Tony squeaked. “So, how about you go… on your way, and I’ll see you in a month, and we continue never talking about this and never seeing each other before midnight?”

“We have a deal, Iron Man,” Amora the Enchantress said in her intensely seductive timbre. “I won’t bother you or your planet… but next month?” Natasha had to strain to hear as Amora’s voice got quieter and breathier.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to want _more_ ,” Amora whispered. Then she laughed, and there was a bright green glow from the living room.

Natasha waited a few moments before stepping around the corner. Tony was plastered against the back of the couch, leaning back as though he were cringing. His expression was a mix of revulsion and horror.

Natasha resisted the urge to pull out her phone and snap a photo.

“Does Pepper know you see other women?” she quipped.

Tony flinched and clutched at his chest with one hand. “ _God_ \- Don’t do that, Natasha!” He blinked. “Hey! I’m not cheating on Pepper! That was a Green Line meeting.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha said, _very_ dubiously. “Weren’t you supposed to tell us when you were going to do that?”

Tony squirmed. “This is a special case.”

She raised an eyebrow and waited for Tony to sweat.

“You can’t tell the others,” he pleaded eventually, brown eyes big and round.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Natasha asked pointedly. “You know how we feel about you inviting supervillains into the Tower. How do you think Thor would react to Amora’s presence here?”

“That’s why you can’t say anything,” Tony told her. “This system that I have now, it works, it keeps a lot of people safe. But if something screws with it-”

“Like your housetrained supervillains demanding more and more?” Natasha pointed to where Amora had stood. “What does she want from you in exchange for staying away from Earth?”

Tony bit his lip, then looked away, and finally he blushed. Natasha nearly screwed up her forehead in surprise. She’d never seen Tony blush before for any reason, and even if he had done so, his skin wasn't the right shade to show it much. As he examined his own shoe on the floor, he looked positively sunburnt.

“It’s… nothing dangerous. Like Doom, you just gotta know their soft spots.”

He winced. Natasha got a bad feeling. “What did you give her, Tony?”

“Ughhhh… Jarvis?”

A holographic screen opened up in the center of the room. Eminently displayed was a video of Thor, shirtless and dripping sweat as he practiced a form in the gym with a long two-hand sword.

Natasha waved her hand to move items around the screen. There was a still shot of Thor in a low-slung towel on his balcony, another video of him swimming laps in the pool one morning, and a few pictures of him laughing with Steve and Clint in tuxedos.

Natasha gestured for the holograph screen to disappear and turned her gaze on Tony, who was all but hugging himself against the couch. “Softcore porn.”

Tony cringed more. “I know. I feel all dirty, and if I’m saying that you know something really wrong happened.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“The last time Amora came to Earth Thor nearly died! I think, you know, a few photos that any paparazzo could have taken is a fair trade!”

Tony obviously didn’t entirely believe what he was saying, but he’d made his bed and now he’d defend it. Natasha considered. Tony looked more and more nervous as he waited.

It was the best of a few bad options. Amora was a nuisance most of the time, but her appearance unsettled Thor and complicated diplomatic relations with Asgard. Additionally, she had caused real trouble for the Avengers on more than one occasion and was known for vindictiveness and for making allies to help her achieve her revenge.

“I think this is the best plan. I won’t tell Thor,” Natasha said at last. Tony let out a relieved breath. “ _But_ ,” she cautioned, “you have to tell Steve, and I want to be notified when she’s going to be here.”

“Done.” Tony nodded vigorously. “I’d feel more comfortable if someone else was around anyway. She can be kind of…” he waved a hand.

“ _Mm-hmm._ ” Natasha looked him up and down blatantly. “Don’t worry Tony, I’ll chaperone you two.”

“No no no no, that’s not what I meant!” Tony protested. “I’m faithful! And she’s not even my type!”

Natasha left, grinning as soon as her back was turned. “Goodnight Tony.”

“Natasha!!”

 

 

4.

 

~~~~~

 

Another crash resounded from the dining room, followed by uproarious laughter. The Juggernaut (“Juggy if you like,” which no one did) howled like a wolf, inspiring Thor to make a sound indescribable on Earth.

In the living room, Bruce flinched, Tony winced, Steve shook his head, and Clint murmured, “Aw, china, no.”

Natasha smiled with exceeding smugness and gestured at the counter Jarvis had up on a nearby screen. Another tally went up under the category ‘Destruction of property.’

“What am I winning, Jarvis?”

“Currently, you stand to win one set of miniature throwing knives, a caricature of the coworker or public figure of your choosing, first pick of Dr. Banner’s next batch of Hulk-soothing brownies, a vacation in one of Mr. Stark’s Mediterranean, Caribbean, or Pacific Island homes-”

“Which does not mean you can use it as a safe house the next time you’re on the run,” Tony interjected.

“What if I want to take a vacation from being on the run?” Natasha asked reasonably.

“And lastly,” Jarvis continued, “as the odds currently stand, you are winning nine hundred and ninety-five dollars and seven thousand, four hundred and twelve pesos.”

Everyone turned to look at Clint. Eyes wide and cheeks bulging, Clint took a moment to navigate a huge bite of brisket, waving his hands in outrage. Once he had swallowed, he shouted, “Why do you all assume that was me!”

Bruce chuckled, looking downright sly. “The pesos were me.”

Clint grabbed a pillow and smacked Bruce’s head with it. Bruce neatly whisked away Clint’s brisket.

“My sweet meat!” Clint pouted.

“Gross,” Bruce replied, starting to eat it.

“Meanwhile, you owe Captain Rogers one favor up to and including an extraction for two from an enemy base, not inclusive of couture evening wear, horseback-riding, or anything associated with the Catholic Church.”

Natasha slapped the arm of the couch. “Wasn’t that the wager on getting one of them to braid the others’ hair? How did you manage that?” she asked Steve.

“I have my ways,” Steve said with a smirk. Natasha nodded at him with approval and a hint of admiration.

“Does this mean if Cap gets kidnapped by the Vatican he has to call me?” Tony pointed out, grinning ear-to-ear. “Because I’ve always wanted to get up to some papal mischief.”

“Why would I be kidnapped by the Vatican?”

“Uh, it’s called your Twitter account.”

“I love the new Pope,” Steve argued. He crossed his arms and looked slightly put out. Natasha settled in to watch the entertainment, nibbling on a cookie like it was popcorn.

They all paused to to observe Clint’s Broadway-level death throes as Bruce ate the last of his brisket.

“Yeah, but you have to figure there are politics going on in the Vatican, right?” Tony continued. “The last Pope was way more conservative, then this guy comes out of nowhere-”

“He was the Archbishop of Buenos Aires, but go off I guess.”

“-talking about ‘gay is okay’ and how we should accept refugees? Lunacy! Uproar!” Tony threw his arms in the air demonstratively.

Natasha snagged the whole tray of cookies from the coffee table and shoved another one in her mouth.

“So you gotta figure there are folks in power over there who want to get this guy back in line,” Tony reasoned, eyes bright with madness as he leaned forward conspiratorially. “And what better way to do it than kidnapping Captain America, the closest thing to Jesus currently walking the Earth-”

“Wow,” Steve said, crossing himself.

“-and using him as leverage to control Pope Francis, either through judicious flexing or threats of torture? Bringing about a new wave of Crusades!”

“Either you ate too many of my brownies, or you’ve been reading too much Huffington Post,” Bruce critiques, sucking the last of the brisket sauce off his fingers.

Tony gives him an offended look. “I don’t read HuffPo, I’m the one percent.”

“HuffPo,” Natasha mutters thoughtfully.

“Don’t you donate like half your annual income?” Clint pointed out, eating Bruce’s chickpea salad that Bruce hadn’t yet noticed he’d stolen. “Doesn’t that make you, like, at least eight percent of something?”

“I don’t think you understand how finances work, Hawkass.”

“And I don’t think you understand the Catholic Church,” Steve rejoined.

“HuffPo,” Natasha giggled.

“What the hell is in these cookies?” Tony asked, eyes crossing.

“HuffPo!” Natasha repeated gleefully.

“Those are the Juggernaut-soothing cookies Prince Thor baked this afternoon,” Jarvis answered. “I could not identify all of the ingredients used, as some were of Asgardian origin, but both Prince Thor and Mr. Marko have consumed a tray each.”

The team went quiet. The air was tense with a sense of oncoming doom.

Natasha lay down, laughing so hard she was crying. Tony blinked at Steve, his finger coming up slowly to point. “You have a halo,” he warbled, eyes wide and worshipful.

From the dining room, an entirely new, infinitely more alarming set of sounds began to emerge.

Those Avengers who had not sampled the special cookies were on their feet in an instant. Steve scooped up Tony, who was elated by the turn of events and began to pat at Steve’s hair. Clint tossed Natasha over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Bruce ran to the wall and keyed in the code that would lock down the floor.

Everyone huddled into the elevator, shuddering at each new sound they heard until the door of the elevator shut and Jarvis carried them away in blissful silence.

“Wait…” Clint thought out loud. “Didn’t I make an all-or-nothing bet that Thor and the Juggernaut would get it on?”

Bruce smacked his forehead.

“You did indeed, Mr. Barton,” Jarvis said with a hint of disapproval.

“Awesome!” Clint punched the air. “I think I'll go for Stark’s vacation house first. The Mediterranean party scene won’t know what hit it!”

 

 

5.

This time, the Green Line notice had been in the team’s calendars for three weeks in advance. Tony had marked off a few hours in the afternoon, reserved the game consoles and the living room, and even provided links to the relevant SHIELD file and recent legal proceedings regarding his guest.

After reading through the material and Tony’s ambiguous wording of, “There probably won’t be any injuries if she’s on her meds,” Steve resolved to give the common floor a wide berth that day, leaving it to Jarvis to inform him if there was trouble. But, as luck would have it, Steve spent three hours painting in the morning and headed up to the common kitchen in a daze.

When he emerged in the living room, Steve sensed something unusual. He shook out of his low-sugar trance and inspected the crowd gathered in front of the TV.

Bruce and a woman with jet-black hair were calmly playing a game of Wii Tennis. Tony and Clint were seated on the sofas, observing.

Steve blinked, squinted, and blinked again. The scene did not change.

Clint looked up and waved, then went back to watching the game.

Steve nodded slowly. He made his way to the kitchen, prepared a plate of leftovers, microwaved it, grabbed a bottle of orange juice, retrieved his plate, and headed back to the elevator.

Tony and Bruce had switched places. Bruce waved goodbye to Steve. Steve returned it as the doors closed. He stood in the unmoving elevator, counting to thirty. “Open the doors, Jarvis.”

“Of course, Captain,” Jarvis said in his peaceful monotone, and opened the doors.

 _Harlem Shake_ blared at top volume over a scene out of Steve’s nightmares.

Thor charged across the living room with a foam lance, screaming “FREEDOM!” He was clad in a Deadpool costume without the mask, and two-third of his face were painted blue. Natasha, carrying a pool cue with blankets tied around the end, rushed from the opposite direction, screaming “FOR NARNIA!” When she crashed into him, the head of her lion costume flies across the room.

Clint was doing a handstand on the back of the couch and twerking to the music. Bruce and the unknown woman screamed at each other as their Just Dance battle neared the finale. Bruce’s face was tinted green. On the couch, Tony was guzzling what looked like a two-liter of Red Bull, and that might just have been the scariest thing of all.

“Yeah, this makes much more sense,” Steve sighed to himself.

A half hour later, when the silly string had been cleaned up from the floor, Bruce’s pet cockatiel had been retrieved and returned safely to its cage, and Steve had gotten to eat lunch, everyone settled back onto the couches for a quiet round of Halo. Tony introduced Steve to his Green Line appointment, a former supervillain named Harley, who apologized insincerely for the mess and said “Things just get kinda crazy when I’m around.”

Steve took a moment to observe Harley, now that she was patiently waiting for her turn on the Wii. She was dressed like a normal woman off the street in an artfully ripped Korn t-shirt and shredded jeans that made Steve long for the days when good clothes were the ones without holes in them. To look at her, one would never have guessed that she had such an ability to inspire chaos.

“Deadpool, really?” she commented to Thor conversationally. “Aren’t you supposed to be the good guys?”

“Oh no,” Clint interrupted as Thor frowned. “Three things you never talk about in mixed company: family recipes, musical theater, and the politics of the superhero community.”

“Where did you grow up again?” Tony asked.

“The circus, why?”

“Deadpool has been claimed by the X-Men, for their sins,” Natasha said to Harley, not taking her eyes off her half of the screen. “Technically he’s operating under their supervision.”

“Which means he’s not our problem,” Bruce interjected happily.

“Deadpool is a trickster, but his heart is in the right place,” Thor said firmly, looking around in surprise when the rest of his team groaned.

“Can we not start this again?” Clint begged, his face turned into the couch cushion.

“You know he’s a mercenary, right?” Harley pointed out. “And he kills people. Like, a lot.”

“There are casualties in any war,” Thor replied.

“Ehh, he does have a pretty high body count,” Tony observed, waving his hand desperately to fend off Natasha’s latest attack on-screen.

“And that’s not counting double for the guys who get cut in half,” Clint said ironically.

“A warrior’s skill-” Thor tried.

“And then guys he sets on fire, crushes, guts, explodes, throws off cliffs, gets sucked into twisters…” Harley sighed dreamily. “Every time we meet, though, he’s married. We’re like ships passing in the night.”

The Avengers stared at her uncomfortably.

“Fine!” Thor shouted, startling everyone. He stood up and started taking off the Deadpool costume. “I suppose I can’t just- admire someone’s talent with the blade, or their witty rejoinders in battle.” He got the shirt caught on his face briefly, but ripped it off and continued. “No! That would be too simple. They must also pledge themselves to some ‘law enforcement agency’ or some imperialistic nation-”

“Hey,” Steve protested.

“-before we can appreciate them for who they are. This is why we can’t have nice things!” Thor finished at top volume, standing completely nude, chest heaving with righteous anger.

Clint began to applaud. Natasha fired off a last volley, killing Tony’s avatar, and joined in.

Steve noticed Harley licking her lips and admiring Thor’s… person, while Tony swore in the background. “He’s taken,” he informed her, blushing.

“So am I,” Harley replied. “That doesn’t mean I can’t play.” She winked at Steve, and then her eyes trailed down to his paint-smeared t-shirt.

Steve looked away and took the Wiimote from Tony’s hands to cue up his own game.

“He does have a point about anti-heros,” Harley said quietly, sliding closer to Steve on the couch. “I mean, look at me.”

Steve emphatically did not look at her, even though she was… tilting toward him, and he did have very good peripheral vision.

“Some people call me a villain, but who’s to say, really? What’s good… and what’s… bad?” she finished in a whisper Steve can feel on his ear.

“Hey, no turning Cap to the Dark Side!” Tony shouted. He squirmed over Steve’s lap and squeezed himself between the pair.

Harley cackled. Steve started to sweat.

“Hey Cap,” Harley called, still shoving with Tony for proper space on the couch. She sounded friendly again, rather than seductive, so he gave her his attention. From her giant grin, that might have been a mistake.

“Wanna make a bet?”

An hour later, Steve was lying with a cold compress over his eyes on the couch while the others cleaned up the living room, which had been trashed again. Clint was holding an ice pack to his forehead, and Harley was watching Natasha bend over to pick something up.

“Still got a thing for redheads,” Tony commented dryly.

“And you don’t?” Harley shot back.

Tony smirked. “We both have good taste. I just want you to be careful.”

Harley rolled her eyes. “I’m never careful.”

“Something else we have in common. But seriously.” Tony’s smile faded away. “You’re on probation. If you’re caught consorting with known supervillains, they’ll put you back in prison.”

“Would you miss me?” Harley said sweetly.

“Of course I would,” Tony said sincerely. Harley melted a little. “That’s why I want you to be careful.”

Harley sighed, crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “She’s not a bad guy,” she whined.

“She’s on three most wanted lists,” Tony reminded her gently. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dated supervillains, I’m not judging you. But you have to look out for number one, you know? Just because they’re your partner doesn’t mean you have to give up what you’ve worked for to make them happy.”

“Them?” Harley glared, raising up one eyebrow. “Who exactly are you talking about?”

“No one in particular, because if I had reason to talk about anyone in particular I would have to report that, and I don’t,” Tony said quickly. He bit his lip. “I heard your ex is getting moved from supermax down to regular max.”

“I don’t care,” Harley grumbled.

“Good. Because it’s Clint’s birthday next month and I just know he’s going to insist on a first-person shooter competition. I want you to kick his ass from one end of the tower to the other. And that can’t happen if you’re in jail, or on the run, or do anything that would risk the terms of your parole.”

Harley glowered for a long minute, but when she rolled her eyes, Tony could tell it was with acceptance. “Okay, fine, whatever, gimme!”

“Gimme, give you what?” Tony asked, already grinning.

“Gimme my game!”

“What game, I don’t know what you, what is this rude, demanding-”

“ _Please, Daddy?_ ”

“Okay, God, never say that again, never make that face again, here, just take it and leave.”

Tony produced a disk case hurriedly, and Harley snatched it up. She traced the embossed letters of the title and the 2019 release date covetously. Her eyes grew shiny with either insanity or joy and she nearly strangled Tony with the force of her hug.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered into his ear.

“OUT!”

Harley waved to the team and entered the elevator. Thirty seconds later, something exploded and _Despacito_ blared out of every speaker. Clint screeched and Thor shouted, “It’s in my hair!” Still on his back on the couch, Steve let out a humongous sigh.

 

 

1.

Steve hung up his conference call with the Deputy Directors of SHIELD on five continents. He rubbed his knuckles into his forehead, trying and failing to dispel the stress headache that had been building for the last- he checked the counter Jarvis has on the wall- thirteen hours and twenty-six minutes.

Next to the counter, a video of Tony getting into a hired car played on loop.

Steve forced himself to take a bite of chocolate tart, and surveyed his team from his spot at the dining room table-cum-command center.

Clint and Natasha were off in different corners of the open-plan floor, each speaking on the phone to different contacts. Clint was red-faced with suppressed rage, clenching his mobile phone and speaking directly into it like a walkie-talkie. Across from him, a placid-faced Natasha spoke calmly into a headset in a language Steve didn’t recognize. She was also doing something on a laptop, her fingers hitting the keys just slightly too hard.

The kitchen had been almost entirely covered in baking sheets, cake cases, and trays of pastries. Ocean sounds wafted mournfully across the floor as Bruce struggled to keep his cool.

Thor was seated on one of the plushest sofas, performing some ritual with a large bowl of saltwater, an extremely outdated map of the world, and a pair of Tony’s sunglasses. Steve had no idea if the ritual would actually help, but there wasn’t much else the Asgardian could do at the moment.

On the holoscreens, Jarvis was combing through data from hundreds of thousands of security cameras; maybe more than that, but as far as Steve’s plausible deniability could extend, the AI wasn’t accessing anything he wasn’t supposed to. Other screens displayed the information they managed to collect so far: that Tony was kidnapped by the Ten Rings on his way out of a nuclear physics conference in Austria; that the ransom for him was a working arc reactor and its accompanying casings and accessories; and that more than half a day after he was taken, the Avengers had no idea where on or over God’s Green Earth Tony could be.

Wait…

Green…

“Natasha!” Steve shouted, drawing Natasha’s stiletto-sharp glare as she murmured something and hit a button on her headset. “Has the Hellfire Club ever had any dealings with the Ten Rings?”

“Not that I know of,” Natasha answered, her eyes lighting up. “But they do know pretty much everyone else.”

The assembled Avengers perked up in turn as a ray of hope shone through. Literally. Thor had been keeping Manhattan heavy with clouds in his distress, but they thinned out in under a minute, and sunlight filtered into the Tower.

Before Steve could even get Jarvis’s name out, the AI announced, “There is a call coming through on the Green Line.”

“Not the best time,” Clint muttered.

Steve took a deep breath. They’d never worked out a plan for the Green Line if Tony wasn’t available, but there was nothing for it now. “I’ll take it, Jarvis.”

His cell phone started to ring in his hand. “You’ve reached Captain America,” Steve answered.

“You’re not very quick off the block, are you?” a smooth voice commented with cold disinterest.

Steve blinked. “Ms. Frost?”

Clint and Thor were immediately standing in front of the table, staring at Steve like hungry dogs. Steve averted his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for one of you to request my assistance,” Emma Frost scolded him. “Did it really take you thirteen and a half hours to remember _me_?”

“The Avengers don’t make a habit of asking for help from the… private sector,” Steve said disapprovingly.

Frost laughed. “Yet, here we are. You haven’t made any progress by yourselves, have you? I do wonder how poor Tony’s going to fare with only his morally-upstanding, yet unproductive _heroes_ to save him.”

Steve suppressed a growl. “What do you want, Ms. Frost?”

“I want for you to get off your pedestal and use the resources available,” Frost retorted. She sounded nearly as angry as Steve felt. “Your teammate is owed favors from a dozen different powerful entities, yet you care more about your sterling reputation. Do you want him back, Captain America? Or do you want to play by the rules?”

“I want him back,” Steve said without hesitation.

“And how far are you willing to go?”

Steve looked up. Natasha and Bruce had come to stand beside Clint and Thor in front of him. Looking at his whole team united, minus one, Steve had no doubts.

“As far as it takes.”

“Then I’ll get the word out,” Frost declared. Steve thought he could hear that sly, dazzling smile in her voice. “If you’ve got any numbers blocked, now would be the time to let them ring through.”

“What are you going to offer?” Steve didn’t ask who, exactly, she was going to contact, or how she planned to do it.

“That’s for Tony to worry about, isn’t it?” Frost jibed. “He’s the Avengers’ only contact with the less- _reputable_ side of the superhuman community.”

“Whatever they ask, it’s on me, not Tony,” Steve said firmly. “You get that word out.”

“Adorable,” Frost drawled. “But… you don’t have to worry, Captain. Most of us won’t need any extra motivation to come to Stark’s aid. And those who do will just consider themselves even. There aren’t many with his kind of influence who are willing to listen to the other side. I suspect you’ll have more help than you need.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that, and especially not to the almost gentle way she said it. He settled for, “Thank you Ms. Frost.”

“Tell Tony I’ll be in touch,” she said, and hung up.

“She’s going to get the word out to the Green Line folks that Tony needs their help,” Steve told his team.

“How did she know exactly when we were about to try and call her?” Bruce asked.

“We can worry about that later,” Natasha said shortly. “Jarvis, is there any way to get a caller ID on the Green Line? We don’t want the wrong person answering certain calls.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t believe we’ll have time for that,” Jarvis answered as a purple mist appeared in the center of the room, swirling to form a portal.

“Nay,” Thor declared, summoning Mjolnir to his hand. It sounded more like a groan than a battle cry.

The Enchantress emerged dramatically out of the portal, decked in a precariously-draped gown and frighteningly high heels. “My love,” she purred, her flinty green gaze locked on Thor. “You called for me?”

Thor looked like a large, blond, deer in headlights. “I…” he gulped, then summed up his courage. “Yes. Amora, I have need of your skills.”

The blonde Asgardian licked her lips and strode toward Thor, who danced away in a panic, keeping furniture between them until he could gesture to the failed map and saltwater spell. “Your skills in the arcane arts, that is! I mean to say…” He sat on the couch, dread taking over his features. “Please… sit beside me.”

Amora sat _right_ beside him. Thor visibly resisted squirming away as she ‘accidentally’ pressed her whole body against him. “My dear,” she giggled. “You have been keeping yourself… _physically fit_.”

Thor gave his teammates a strained expression over her the top of the Enchantress’s head, a combination of ‘Save me!’ and ‘If you see fit to mention this event ever again, you will be smote by lightning.’

They would save him on a normal day, Steve figured. But today, Thor had to take one for the team. Out of respect, they turned their backs on the Asgardian pair.

The next hour involved an absolute crush of highly delicate phone-calls, video chats, a few holographic conversations, one or two astral projections, a migraine-inducing psychic message, and two more visitors who accessed the Tower through some sort of portal. Natasha took charge of assigning the calls, since she had the fewest enemies of all of them. Bruce awkwardly joked that it was because her enemies all ended up dead. No one laughed.

Steve personally spoke to a demon princess, the acolyte of an Egyptian god who was holding a side conversation with himself, and finally an old woman with New York area code and a Chinese accent who called to offer the aid of... her Hand? When Clint overheard the conversation and started signing ‘No!’ in a panic, Steve had to use his best manners to decline the assistance.

After that call, Steve eyed Natasha suspiciously, sure that she was sending him the tricky ones on purpose, but since she was speaking into thin air with an intense expression on her face, he didn’t bother her.

Most of the calls were only helpful in ruling out possibilities. A Hydra agent who identified himself only as Bob called in to nervously report that Hydra had nothing to do with Tony’s disappearance. Bruce took that call, and afterwards looked like he didn’t know how to feel about it. A well-dressed man standing in a tastefully decorated office told Clint over a video call that the Pride was not involved, and ended the call with a scoff when Clint asked what he meant. While everyone else was busy on other lines, Natasha took a call with a Russian area code, which ended when she violently hung up her cell phone and smashed it with one of Bruce’s rolling pins, sending chips of casing across the dining room table.

“Sorry,” she said mildly, looking around the room with a perfectly calm expression. “I’m tense.”

Then she looked right at a pretty thief who’d been trying to barter a reward for information out of Steve, and smiled. Steve shivered, and the young woman quickly remembered she had somewhere else to be.

Steve was surprised by the number of people who called without leaving any identifying information, without trying to get anything in return for their help. He couldn’t help but be proud of Tony, who was clearly doing something right if so many people were willing to help him for little or no reward. It only made him more determined to rescue his absent teammate.

They finally started making real progress when Thor let out a triumphant shout. He rushed over to the dining room table and the others crowded around.

“He is there!” Thor declared. In the middle of the South Atlantic, a small diamond was embedded in the map. On the holographic screen, Jarvis pulled up a real time satellite shot of the area.

“There’s nothing there,” Steve pointed out.

“Of course you can’t _see_ it,” Enchantress scoffed. The team turned to see her artfully draping herself along the back of the couch. “Bagalia is far too secure to be visible to mere human technology.”

“Bagalia?” Bruce frowned.

“Shiiit,” Clint commented astutely. “That place is even worse than Madripoor. And, it’s a hot button topic in the United Nations whether they’re going to become an independent country. You know, since it’s run by supervillains and all. Tony’s got himself into a bigger jam than we thought!”

“We have a location,” Steve summed up. “But we still don’t know who took him, or why.”

“We know who took him,” Natasha said darkly. “The Mandarin spoke to the UN on Bagalia’s behalf two weeks ago.”

“Stark’s arch-nemesis!” Thor cried.

“One of them,” Bruce muttered.

Clint rapped his knuckles on the table for attention. “Guys, the whole are around Bagalia is a no-fly zone, even though it doesn’t have an official location. If we’re even seen near it, we’re talking massive international incident.”

“What fear we of diplomats when our shield-brother is held by forces of evil?” Thor challenged.

Steve held up a hand. “We also have no idea what kind of defences they have. If the place really is run by supervillains-” Clint nodded intensely, “-approaching blind would be a suicide run. We need more information.”

At that moment, his cell phone rang again. They all noticed that none of the other lines had rung since Thor announced the latest discovery.

Steve sighed and answered the call. This time, he turned on speakerphone. “Ms. Frost, I presume?”

“Bagalia is protected against several types of magical interference,” the telepath told him crisply. “Not to mention, almost an over-abundance of military-grade firepower. I wouldn’t recommend flying in your usual jet.”

“Ms. Frost, would you like to come to the Tower?” Steve offered politely, managing to keep his irritation out of his voice. “You seem up-to-date on our progress, so I’m sure you’re in the area.”

“And be seen assisting you? What a terrible idea,” she replied, sounding offended. “I have a reputation to keep, Captain.”

“Did you call just to tell us we can’t go after Tony?” Steve said shortly, the hours of frustration finally getting the better of him.

“Keep an open mind, Captain,” Frost chastised. “You cannot have an ally teleport you to the island. And you cannot fly yourself. That doesn’t mean you can’t get there. Best of luck, Avengers.”

She hung up on them.

“Well that was pointless,” complained Clint.

“No… it wasn’t,” Natasha said thoughtfully. She nodded to herself. “I have a call to make. Suit up.”

The phones started ringing again.

Knowing who and where they were targeting, the team was able to get more information from the stream of callers. Whirlwind, a villain familiar to the team from several captures and escapes, told them about the video surveillance system that covered the city, in exchange for one of them testifying on his behalf the next time they arrested him. A woman who left the name Giuletta told them about the politics of the island and how the Mandarin fit in. She asked them to apologize to Tony on her behalf, that she couldn’t do more to help. Taskmaster, a villain Steve had gone head-to-head with in the past, was more than happy to give up any information he could on Bagalia, even emailing them a map of the island while he ranted over the phone. He asked them to destroy a few specific buildings while they were there, as a favor.

The most helpful advice came from a man who teleported in… via a giant dog. He was dressed in a black and silver zig-zag outfit with strange wings that reminded Steve to be grateful for his star-spangled, relatively modest costume. He indicated that he couldn’t speak, but he was able to sign to Clint, who manfully resisted the urge to pet the giant bulldog in order to do his job.

Thor scritched the giant dog all over and ended up covered in happy slobber. Clint looked extremely jealous.

Their new guest, who introduced himself as Black Bolt, told them that he had fought the Mandarin not long before. Black Bolt described the various powers and abilities the Mandarin had at his disposal, and what he had learned about the villain’s motivations during the affair. Steve took notes, already crafting strategies in his head in case his team had to fight the powerful villain head-on.

Natasha came back with a grim expression. “We have to get to JFK. Our ride’s waiting.”

“Wait,” Clint called as the others began to follow her. Black Bolt was signing to Clint and his dog was returning to his side. “He says he’ll take us.”

“I don’t know about this,” Bruce said nervously, eyeing the dog.

It panted happily.

“Traveling by good boy is the safest way to travel, Bruce,” Clint told him seriously.

Bruce rolled his eyes, but put his hand on the dog with the others.

Moments later, they were standing on the pavement at JFK. Steve thanked Black Bolt for all of his help, and Natasha led them to a small, sleek plane.

Steve eyed the markings on the side and recognized a flag just as the cabin door opened and a familiar figure began descending the steps. “Oh no, Natasha…”

“Von Doom is helping Bagalia achieve sovereign status at the UN,” Natasha said firmly. “He can fly in whenever he wants, and his plane won’t be searched.”

“Doom is also the _only_ one willing to stow you away across borders,” the man himself said haughtily, descending from the plane. He reached the bottom of the steps only to cross his arms and glare at Steve through his mask. “The Avengers should be grateful to Doom!”

“We totally are,” Clint said convincingly. “All the Twizzlers for you, man.”

Doom grumbled as he led them onto the plane. It sounded very strange through his mask. “After this,” he intoned, “Stark owes me shares in that company.”

“I’m… sure that can be worked out?” Clint shrugged.

After all the stress and fear the Avengers had been feeling for the past dozen hours with the knowledge that their friend was in extreme danger, the four-hour plane ride could not be anything but tense. Even Clint and Thor, who usually managed to be jovial en route to fights and missions, were solemn and anxious. Doom insisted they remain in the cargo space, so there was very little to distract the team from their worst fears. Steve laid out various plans of engagement, spitballing ideas with his teammates, but nothing could make this feel like any other mission.

The only bright spot was when, two hours in, Thor received a phone call. All the Avengers had left everything but their emergency communicators back at the Tower, and Thor apologized when  _The Body Electric_  interrupted the intense conversation about combatting magical attacks. He retreated away from the others to take the call.

When he returned he was beaming brightly enough to light the plane. “I have spoken to the great warrior Deadpool!” Thor announced.

The team exchanged looks of deep concern. “What… did he say?” Bruce asked finally.

“The honorable Deadpool and our friend, the lady Harley have found each other at last! They heard tell of the shameful capture of Tony Stark and are on their way to Bagalia to ‘cause massive distraction and cut some bitches,’” Thor quoted.

Steve put his face in his hands.

“This could work to our advantage,” Natasha considered.

Thor sniffled a little.

“Are you… okay, buddy?” Clint inquired, poking the god’s shoulder.

“They are tears of joy, my friend,” Thor declared. “Tears of joy.”

“Oooooookay then.”

As the plane began its descent, the Avengers performed their last checks on their weapons, preparing themselves for battle. Steve had prepared a pep talk in his head, the kind Bruce and Natasha usually pretended to listen to, Clint and Tony mocked, and Thor took entirely too seriously, but when he looked at his team, he knew they were as ready as they could be.

Instead, he simply declared, “Avengers, Assemble!”

There was a moment of silence, before they all started laughing.

Steve’s cheeks heated, but Natasha leaned on his shoulder, smiling easily for the first time since Tony was taken. “Stark’s gonna be mad he missed this,” she told him.

Steve thought about it. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

“Of course we will.”

  
~~~~~

 

Tony woke up to a gentle whistling in his ear. It took a while, because he felt like he was coming out of a fugue state. It wasn’t like being drunk, though. Maybe like… being drugged?

He managed to blink open his eyes, and immediately a gentle hand slipped into his.

“You’re safe, Tony,” Bruce’s kind voice said quietly. “We’re at the Tower.”

“Who…?”

Finally able to see his own bedroom, Tony looked to the side. Harley was curled up in three of his comforters, her head rested on his shoulder, dead asleep. On her other side, Deadpool slept curled up in a ball.

“They refused to leave,” Bruce told him, smiling crookedly. “Between that, and you being rescued, Manhattan’s had its best weather in months. I’ve never seen Thor happier. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Tony realized. “Why do I feel this good?”

“Thor’s mother sent you a healing potion.” Bruce checked his vitals, eventually sitting back in the chair by Tony’s bed with a smile. “You’re healthy as a clam. Guess it’s not only supervillains who want to help you out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, it’s a long story.” Bruce grinned cheekily.

“Well I’m ready to hear it. I feel like I could run a marathon.”

“Maybe try lunch first.”

With Bruce’s help, Tony got out of bed and made it to out to the common area. By the time they got there, any lingering shakiness was gone. Brilliant smells greeted the pair as they entered the dining room, where Steve, Clint, and Natasha got up to welcome Tony back.

Moments later, Thor emerged from the kitchen and nearly squeezed Tony back to his sickbed. “It is a magical day when our team stands together as one again,” he said grandly, and they were all so glad to have Tony back safe that no one even called him cheesy.

Lunch was a three-course meal prepared by the Juggernaut, who had found inspiration in the super-strong cooking utensils Tony had made for him and had cooked up all of Tony’s favorites.

Halfway through lunch, though, Deadpool and Harley emerged from Tony’s bedroom, stole some tupperware from the kitchen, and began loading themselves up some to-go meals. Deadpool autographed a napkin for Thor, winning the Asgardian over entirely, and he defended the pair their stolen food against an outraged Juggernaut and Clint.

Harley gave Tony a huge hug. “Are you sure about this guy?” he asked her, looking on in concern as Deadpool nearly took Thor’s finger off demonstrating a swing of his katana. Starstruck, Thor didn’t even seem to notice.

“He’s fun,” Harley said simply. “I like fun.”

“He doesn’t stay on one side of the law,” Tony pointed out. “And you’re still on probation.”

“You can’t save everyone.” Harley smiled sadly at her friend. “I know you want to. But some people are just born to be bad.”

“Hey, don’t give up,” Tony insisted. “He’s a good guy sometimes.”

Harley patted Tony on the head. “Then maybe we’ll be the baddest good guys out there. In the meantime…” she smirked dangerously and Tony stiffened with anticipation. “I figure you’re going to have a lot of work on your hands fixing up your connections with all the real bad guys out there. So, I left you a few surprises, to keep your mood up!”

“Harley…”

“Oops, time to go!” She kissed Tony on the cheek and dashed for the elevator. Deadpool kissed Thor on the cheek before following her, shouting goodbyes over his shoulder. The god of thunder blushed heavily and had to sit down.

As the elevator doors closed, several things began to explode. Bruce groaned loudly and Natasha shrieked. Steve just closed his eyes and Tony laughed.

“Home, sweet home.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art Post: The Green Line](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414748) by [Lets_call_me_Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/pseuds/Lets_call_me_Lily)




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